


In Deep and Out of Control

by LFB72



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Major Character Injury, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-23 21:08:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4892305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LFB72/pseuds/LFB72
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Merlin are trapped with no means of escape. Merlin is injured and struggles to control himself as a past trauma comes back to haunt him</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> This is a two-shot set sometime after season 4. 
> 
> I'd like to thank Caldera32 who betaed it for me.
> 
> Contains a graphic description of a broken leg

[ ](https://imgur.com/hoKczGE)

The Fall

Merlin's heart banged against his ribs like a caged bird fighting for release. He could not catch his breath nor hear anything over the roar of blood thumping through his brain. His heel struck the ground and his forefoot propelled him forward, stride after relentless stride. He was moving faster than he thought his body capable. Attempts to bat away the foliage were futile; branches scratched his face and hit his chest, his feet struggled against the uneven and unforgiving terrain. He had to continue, but could not keep up this intensity. Acid pumped through his veins making the muscles of his thighs and back burn, his ligaments and tendons were already stretched to capacity – something had to give, and it did.

It was now or never; Arthur was far enough ahead to not see. Merlin rotated his trunk, outstretched his arm with a splayed palm, and sent out a blast of pure magic. He had not the air to say the words but his gift knew his intent - the wild boar was thrown against a tree, the threat extinguished instantly. The warlock did not have time to revel in the victory – fate had other plans. Merlin's body uncoiled but his left foot had caught on a rut in the ground and remained stationary, all that momentum and rotational force was transmitted through his fibula and the little bone could not cope. A sickening crack was heard as it fractured, matched only by the scream rent from the lungs of the body it belonged to. Merlin crashed to the floor as a searing pain shot up his leg.

A guttural cry cut through the air, chilling the king's blood. Merlin had been right behind him; he spun around in time to see the figure in the distance crash to the ground like a felled tree.

"NO!" Adrenaline fuelled his movements, giving Arthur the extra energy to sprint back to his friend. He drew his sword, ready to slay the beast that dared to attack.

The warlock grasped at his useless limb, attempting to draw it into himself, but that action alone was enough to cause another wave of pain to engulf him. He couldn't even pinpoint which part had been injured; the whole leg was on fire. His breath came in ragged gasps as sweat and tears mingled, streaming down his face, obscuring his vision and stinging his eyes. His thin shirt was wet and stuck to his back. All warmth evaporated, his body cooling down far too efficiently.

Merlin tried to sit up by pushing through the heel of his left hand; his arm shook beneath him and it was then he registered that it was not earth and vegetation he rested upon but planks. The view was blurry and he had to blink several times to clear the moisture from his eyes; yet there was some part of him that instinctively knew where he had landed. Twice in a lifetime; what were the chances?

He lay amidst a circle, concealed by plants but unmistakable – a covered well. The warlock stilled, his heart rate began to climb as icy tendrils of fear crept up his spine, paralysing him. Not again, never again. The ground beneath creaked ominously; Merlin slapped both arms down, pinning himself to the unstable surface, and screwed his eyes shut.

"Merlin?"

The warlock had not even registered the king's frenzied approach.

Arthur's run had slowed as his servant came into view. He could see Merlin was not being attacked by the wild boar; however, he did appear to be hurt. The king re-sheathed his sword. This was serious, Merlin was in obvious agony; the writhing movements coupled with a rotated and distorted left leg suggesting a break.

"Merlin?"

The dark-haired man opened his eyes wide and stared into the blue irises of the royal. Arthur took a stride towards his friend, ready to help the injured man up. As soon as the royal's foot landed on the flimsy structure the rotten wood gave way, plunging the king and his servant into a black abyss.

The two men plummeted downward, the circular patch of light above them shrinking at an alarming rate. Arthur's stomach flipped and he saw his life flash before him; all his mistakes and regrets... then time seemed to slow down just before the moment of impact. They hit something solid and the royal violently jerked. Splinters of wood, debris, and dust kicked up and Arthur instinctively covered his head against the small rocks that rained down, stinging as they hit his back and shoulders. The pummelling eventually stopped, the cloud dissipated and Arthur cautiously lifted his head to survey the damage. How they could have survived such a fall was beyond him but somehow they always did. Both men were alive and in one piece – well the king was.

"Merlin?" the monarch croaked. He had to turn his neck away to spit and clear his throat. "Merlin, are you alright?"

The royal realised he was sprawled on top of his gangly friend and clambered back immediately, easing his weight off the younger man. The monarch seemed to have escaped serious injury, his body was shaken but he'd only sustained superficial scrapes and nicks. Even in the gloom the king could tell Merlin had not been so lucky. The servant appeared to be unconscious; his eyes were closed and he was very still.

Merlin had a broken leg, this before the ground gave way, and Arthur dreaded to think what else his friend had suffered. He carefully brushed the dirt away from his servant's jacket; his clothes were ripped in places, revealing grazed skin, and there was a small cut on his forehead. Merlin had always been pale but in the eerie light the man practically glowed. Arthur pushed back the black fringe, feeling the scalp, checking for further bumps or bleeding. The lanky man winced, his eyelashes flickered and he let out a groan.

"Sleeping again, Merlin?"

"Eh?" The servant blinked rapidly, coughing.

"A bit of an extreme way to get out of your chores, don't you think?" The royal said in jest, trying to cover up his own fear.

"You were the one that provoked the damn pig," Merlin grumbled, letting his eyes slide shut.

"No you don't - stay awake. You could have a concussion." Or be in shock; or have internal injuries, he added silently to himself.

"Then, then..." Merlin smacked his lips together, his tongue clearing the dust that caked them, "I'll worry about it when I wake up," the young man slurred, letting his head roll backwards.

The royal was both anxious and exasperated by the servant's behaviour; he did not have many options so fumbled for his water skin, uncorked it and promptly threw the contents in Merlin's face. The soaked sorcerer shook his head, now fully alert. He lifted a hand to wipe his cheek and took in his surroundings; the steep curved walls covered in lichen and moss, the sound of trickling water and the dark enclosed space. His heart sank. I can't do this again. Merlin frantically scanned the area, need to get out, his breath became ragged, there has to be a way.

Arthur was expecting some sort of verbal comeback after the douching but instead his servant's gaze flicked back and forth, not resting on anything - almost as if he were afraid.

Would Arthur notice if he used magic? He'd slowed their descent without detection. His gift flared deep inside, ready to do his bidding. What can I do, what can I exploit without being seen? Nothing. There's no cover, no space, no hope. He forced the magic back down but it was like trying to close an overstuffed chest.

Time stretched on like a never-ending path - it was difficult to keep track. Merlin had no inclination to speak, all his effort was directed at trying to keep his breathing steady. How could something so automatic be so difficult? He couldn't get enough air, his ribs felt like they'd shrunk, preventing his lungs from expanding.

Arthur had thoroughly explored the confines of the well in the hope of finding something useful but had uncovered nothing functional. He'd thrown a few idle comments at his servant but they'd all been ignored. The king was worried now- Merlin was too quiet; he always talked incessantly unless something was wrong.

"Merlin?"

The warlock looked skyward and spotted the silhouette of a bird soaring above. He let out a snort. It was as if the creature was taunting him with its freedom. I could call Kilgharrah... but the dragon would not be able to reach them and Arthur was here. He cursed at the idiocy of such an idea.

"Merlin, answer me."

The warlock made a desperate attempt to scramble up. I need to do something - anything. His fingers grasped ineffectually at the debris that was scattered about the floor. Trapped - need to move. Terrified, the man shifted his weight; a strangled yell rang out as white hot pain seared through his body and struck him immobile.

The king grabbed Merlin's shoulders, shaking the struggling man. "What the hell are you thinking?" he scolded, "You can't move with that leg."

Arthur found himself slammed against the opposite wall. Winded and stunned, the royal wondered just how Merlin in his incapacitated state had managed to kick with such force. Adrenaline and fear could achieve more than the combined strength of many men, he'd seen as much on the battlefield but had never expected it from his servant. Merlin's head was down, shaking from side to side; he was muttering something indistinguishable and his arms were braced, fists balled. The king rubbed his aching side and crawled towards the distraught man.

"Listen to me, Merlin, you need to calm down or you're going to hurt yourself." The king had made it to his friend; he tentatively reached out his hand and placed it lightly on the servant's shoulder. "Look at me, Merlin," he said softly.

The dark-haired man's eyes were scrunched up and his face was set in an unfamiliar grimace. "Open your eyes and look at your king." Arthur stated firmly.

Merlin squinted at the royal, the man was trembling uncontrollably and Arthur berated himself for not noticing sooner. It was cold and not only did Merlin have less flesh on his bones than the king but his clothes were threadbare and did nothing to protect against the dank chill. Hypothermia was not something the knight wanted to add to the ever-growing list of misfortunes that beset the pair. He brought his torso close to his friend so their bodies touched and draped an arm over the thin man's shoulders. "It will be alright, we will get out of this." The king could hear his companion's teeth chattering and feel the vibration through his thin frame. He pressed on, "The knights will be looking for us; they know where we were supposed to be." Arthur bumped Merlin playfully, "It would be hard for them to miss the trail of destruction you left behind." Merlin did not rise to the jibe; staying uncharacteristically quiet. Arthur was out of his depth; he had no idea how to rally his sombre friend. "We will get out of here – understand?" He eventually said, squeezing his friend's arm in reassurance.

The warlock nodded, biting his lip. All around were reminders of the ordeal he'd successfully suppressed for years. He shut his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing. It was hard; his magic was frantic, in turmoil, constant pins and needles under his skin threatening to explode again. What if I hurt Arthur? What if I'm found out? No matter how he tried he could not escape the memory of that terrible event. How he'd clawed repeatedly at the walls trying to climb up the slippery surface only to fall again and again, nails bent and bleeding. How he'd screamed until he'd lost his voice but no one had heard and how he'd used his magic until he'd collapsed, exhausted. My gift was useless. Nothing had worked; he remained alone and imprisoned in the dark. At the time he felt he deserved it somehow, that it was punishment for what he was.

The warlock started to count and recite spells silently – anything to keep his mind occupied.

They sat in silence, eventually the king felt Merlin's head bob and his breathing even out as the injured man slipped into a fitful sleep. Perhaps I should wake him? Merlin would only damage himself further in this state – he needed the rest, if only for a little while. Arthur felt a little shaky himself although he would never admit it. He ached; his muscles were starting to stiffen after the abuse of running and the jarring of the fall. He sat in silence, save for an incessant drip, and reflected on all that had happened.

The royal's eyes had adjusted to the poor light and he looked around – there was no escape. Despair crept into his heart; they had no provisions and Camelot was at least a day's ride away. For all the hopefulness he'd displayed earlier, the king felt the full weight of their predicament. Arthur missed Merlin's playful banter and positive attitude - he could sure as hell do with it now - but, although physically next to him, the man was absent.

He awoke with a start - damn it! - he'd not meant to doze off. There was a scrabbling sound and Arthur caught movement; the fat pink tail of a rat coiled round a loose stone, then disappeared into a pile of rubbish - but the rustling remained. Great. Could things get any worse?

Merlin's lower leg had doubled in size; the fabric of his servant's trousers was now taut against his left shin – Arthur was no physician but this was not a good sign. The blond man let out a sigh, rubbing his temple; how did they end up in these impossible situations? In the past something always turned up and they would be victorious - every time there was a miraculous solution to the problem. He had to believe they would be lucky on this occasion too.

Merlin always knew what to say to lift the mood; the royal had never seen him like this. For all the times the king had called the man a coward he knew that was not true. Merlin had faced sorcerers, dragons, and all manner of foes with a resilience knights would be proud of; he was optimistic and resourceful in any circumstance. There was more to his current reaction, there had to be, but how well did Arthur really know his servant? Merlin could read the king better than anyone else, better than the man himself. He saw all the monarch's fears, insecurities, and aspirations but would often deflect conversations that centred on himself. The servant babbled incessantly and talked rubbish and wisdom in equal measure but, for all that, revealed very little of his true thoughts and nature.

Only a few days ago Arthur had seen a side to Merlin that had amazed him and the servant had been completely oblivious. A visiting dignitary had presented the royal with a puzzle box some years previously. He had been unable to fathom the damn thing and no one at court had worked it out either – not even Gaius. Arthur assumed it must be a joke or broken. The useless trinket had gathered dust on a shelf like all the other prizes the royal collected. Then Merlin had tumbled into his chambers asking for a day off and had nervously picked up the puzzle box, manipulating the wooden structure in his fingers. The royal had watched, mesmerised, as the long, pale digits had effortlessly glided over the smooth mahogany; breaking it open, forming intricate patterns, and flattening it out before putting it back together. The servant had absently placed the box back where he'd found it and Arthur had been so shocked by the display he'd granted Merlin's request. The jubilant man had left with no idea what he had just done.

Merlin was the enigma that Arthur intended to solve - someday. Right now they needed to get out of this hellhole. He had to do something; Arthur extradited himself carefully and got up. He scanned the walls, hands on his hips; maybe he could climb, get help and winch Merlin out?

"It won't work – you'll fall."

The king turned towards the sound of the voice, "How do you know? I've not even tried!"

Merlin looked away and bit his lip.

"Then I'll call for help, someone will -"

"NO!" The warlock interrupted, "it's unstable - the noise could make it collapse!"

"What are you talking about?" Arthur snapped, but then he looked at his servant. Merlin's lip trembled slightly and perspiration dotted his brow. The monarch crouched down opposite the invalid, "What happened to you, Merlin?"

He shook his head, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Claustrophobic?" Even as the words left his lips he knew that was not the case; they'd been in plenty of tight spots and Merlin had even hidden under his bed for several days when Uther had married Katarina, the enchanted troll (the royal shuddered at the memory).

"What then? Talk to me!" Arthur pushed.

There was a long pause; Arthur held the servant's gaze – he was not going to let this go.

Merlin turned away, looking in every direction bar the king's; he swallowed, bracing himself. "Fine, I got trapped down a well when I was a child," he stormed, almost challenging the king to mock him.

"You fell?"

The warlock's head dropped and he started pulling at his hair with his hands.

"Merlin?"

"They held me over the edge – to teach me a lesson - but the wall gave way..."

"What?" Arthur was incredulous, "Who would do that? The bas-"

"They were children, Arthur… they didn't understand."

"That's no excuse!" Fury punctuated the words.

"I've told you, I didn't fit in... did not know when to shut up…Their prank went wrong - it was an accident...they were frightened...ran away..."

"To get help?"

Silence.

"They left you there?"

No response. The only sound a steady drip, drip, drip. Arthur could stand it no longer, he was desperate, "Then how did you get out?"

When Merlin did not answer, Arthur asked again. "How?"

The warlock finally looked up, hysterical, "I don't know!" He bellowed.

"How can you not know?" Arthur waved his hands, completely absorbed in the quest for information and forgetting the unstable condition Merlin was in.

"I was eight, I can't remember!" Merlin beat the ground with his fists. "I was down there for a day - two days...no one came... I couldn't get out, it was dark, cold...I thought I was going to die... then... then..." his breath hitched and he rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands, letting out a small cough, "I woke up in my mother's house. My injuries had been tended to, but I don't know how I got there. We never spoke about it, I couldn't, I did not want to." His face crumpled, "Please Arthur..."

A loose stone dislodged above, echoing as it ricocheted off the walls and narrowly missing the two men. Merlin flinched, bringing his hands over his head. A second stone followed, then a third. The warlock's throat constricted, restricting his air. We'll be buried alive! His heart raced and his magic surged. Camelot – need to get out, have to get out - now.

Arthur watched in horror as Merlin curled in on himself, muttering incoherently and banging his head against the wall.

"No, Merlin. Please, slow down... breathe," Arthur had hold of the servant but was distracted when a shadow was cast over them and there was an ominous rumble. He looked up just in time to see bricks and earth cascade down. Arthur threw himself over his friend, shielding the younger man – it was all he could do. Time seemed to slow, just as Arthur had heard it did in the moments before death. Suddenly there was a blinding light; this is it – well, we're together at least. Arthur clung to his friend as his heart felt like it was being ripped from his chest. Then he knew no more - engulfed in a sea of darkness.


	2. Solving The Puzzle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin has some explaining to do

In Deep and Out of Control Part 2: Solving a Puzzle

When Arthur awoke, it was not to the unfamiliar and unknown afterlife. He was in the royal chambers and before him was the court physician. Granted, he would have preferred his first view to be that of his beautiful wife and not a wizened old man, but he was alive and that was reward enough.

"Merlin?" He croaked.

"Is as well as can be expected," Gaius reassured.

Arthur struggled to get up, but was prevented by a firm hand to his chest. "Sire, I insist you remain in bed."

"There's nothing wrong with me," the royal tried to manoeuvre past the old man but the wily physician was used to such tricks and had some of his own.

"I beg to differ. In my professional opinion you have been through an ordeal and need rest. I do not wish to resort to a sleeping draft."

The king flopped back onto his pillows, "Tell me about Merlin."

The physician nodded, "He is lucky to have only broken his leg."

"Lucky?" The royal screeched.

Gaius gave a stern look and raised an eyebrow, putting an end to further interruption, "If I may be permitted to continue?" Arthur nodded, chastised. "Merlin has sprained his ankle, fortunately, he only fractured the smaller of the two long bones of the lower leg. The fibula is not load bearing so should heal without incident or deformity. Of course, that will take at least six weeks and he won't be able to put any weight on it in that time. An open fracture or if both bones had broken would have been grave indeed; undoubtedly there would have been permanent damage and shortening of the leg. The recovery period would be much longer and that's if infection or malunion ..."

The king held up a hand in defeat, "Gaius, please." The physician stopped. A small smile played at his lips, unseen by the king – the monarch too lost in thought. The physician prepared himself to leave. Arthur was not sure how to broach the subject, so he spoke softly, "Gaius can I ask you a question?"

"Sire?"

Arthur licked his lip, and let out a sigh. "Does Merlin ever talk about his childhood?"

Gaius looked startled for a moment, but then composed himself. "No, Sire, I can't say that he does. Has he said something to you?" The old man inquired gently.

Arthur shook his head, "No – nothing. It doesn't matter, I was just curious." Merlin had not wanted to disclose the trauma that he'd been forced to endure as a child, and the knight would honour his secret and trust by keeping both that incident and what had just occurred to himself.

Gaius paused at the doorway, looking contemplative, "Hunith was and is a good mother; she showed her affection and instilled good values in her child." He paused, "I can't imagine it would have been easy for Merlin, growing up in a small village without a father. Children can be cruel."

Arthur nearly gagged and had to bite his tongue at that statement.

"And with that loose mouth of his, he does have a habit of finding trouble." The physician looked slightly exasperated. Gaius had surmised there was more to Merlin's injury, given the state the pair had been found in, but now was not the time to pry. His ward had been out of sorts at first, but had calmed when he realised he was home and the king was safe. Merlin was frustrated at being unable to perform his duty of protecting the king but the old man did not see the need to inform the royal of the warlock's distress over being bedridden.

On observing the king's concern for his surrogate son and struggle to express it, Gaius offered, "He has a good constitution and will fully recover in time. Merlin is stronger than he seems."

"Yes, he is." The royal said absently. For Merlin to have survived an experience like that with his mind intact and hold no grudge was beyond the royal - it showed a fortitude any knight or king would be proud of. Arthur was drawn from his thoughts.

"If that will be all, Sire?"

"Yes, thank you, Gaius."

The physician nodded and left the room.

Arthur thought back to when he'd first met Merlin – the way he'd been bullying that servant (because that's what it was - he saw that now) then this fearless, runt of a stranger challenged him... the royal cringed and felt ashamed but was saved from wallowing in self-pity by a knock at the door.

"Enter."

A curly-haired knight let himself into the room. "It is good to see you awake, Sire."

"Sir Leon, I believe I have you to thank for finding us?"

The bearded man gave a respectful nod, "It was no trouble, Your Highness."

Arthur frowned, "How did you dig us out?"

"Dig you out?" Leon looked quizzical.

"Yes, how did you get us out of the well – last I remember the walls caved in?"

The knight hesitated, "Sire, you and Merlin were found in the woods just outside Camelot a day ago. The horses only returned this morning. We were hoping you could explain exactly what had happened."

Arthur stilled and his throat was dry, he looked at his second-in-command. "Have you spoken to Merlin?"

"Yes Sire, he said it was all your fault. You angered a wild boar that chased both of you for miles before he tripped, injuring his leg. He said you helped him. That's all he can recall."

"How is he?"

"Merlin?" Leon shrugged, "The same as ever, cheerful – not a worry in the world. I think he will enjoy the time off his feet. Gwaine's already gone down there with a jug of mead but Merlin was asleep so he had to drink it all himself."

"Sounds about right," Arthur mused, still distracted. Cheerful? That was the mask Merlin showed to everyone - what else had he successfully kept hidden? What other burdens might he carry? This was pointless, surely no one would be unfortunate enough to have more than one experience like that, especially someone like Merlin. Arthur tore himself away from such depressing speculation.

"Thank you, Leon, that will be all."

"He was asking about you; when he wakes shall I tell him you are recovered?"

The king nodded, still a little shaken. The knight gave a bow and exited the room.

As he listened to the retreating foot steps echoing down the corridor the royal was left to wonder just how they had survived their ordeal. How they had lived through that rock fall with no additional injuries and had been found just outside Camelot when their hunting trip had lasted three days and was miles from the citadel.

Arthur sighed. Did he dream it - was it real, was he concussed? What exactly happened? Merlin usually came up with some sort of outlandish explanation under these circumstances but he knew that was not going to happen this time.

It was real; it did happen but Merlin either could not or did not want to remember. For the sake of his friend, he too would choose to forget. Maybe he'd find out eventually. Arthur yawned - he felt pretty tired suddenly. He would put it down to one of those miraculous mysteries that had peppered his life since meeting the dark-haired man. Next time he would just have to try and stay awake and pay more attention.  _Next time_... he'd think about it more when he was well rested.

The following day Arthur made his way to the physician's quarters. Merlin was on the bed in the open area rather than in his room. The king presumed this was so the injured man did not have to negotiate stairs. Gaius left on the pretext of having some business to attend to, giving the two men some much-needed privacy. The servant looked much better than the last time Arthur had seen him, although he seemed a little tense.

Arthur walked purposely towards the bed and plopped himself down, then immediately shot up when he saw Merlin wince and procured a nearby stool instead.

"So, how's the leg?"

"Fine - unless some heavy-weight sits on it!"

"Are you calling me…" he trailed off, seeing the feigned innocence of his servant face. It was good he had his sense of humour back, even if it was at his king's expense.

Arthur was torn; he wanted to find out more about how they got out of the well, but he knew it would be difficult for Merlin.

"So, you don't remember much after the fracture?"

The warlock froze, tension creeping into his shoulders, amusement gone. After a long silence, Merlin spoke. "Arthur... if I did or said anything embarrassing…"

"No."

Merlin's head shot up and he gave the king a quizzical look.

"Everyone's scared of something, Merlin... I don't think any less of you."

The servant paled. "Arthur…"

"I mean, that boar was pretty big."

The king watched Merlin's shoulders drop as he let go of the breath he'd been holding and relief flooded into his features. "Yeah, it was."

"Only fools say they're not frightened." The knight had a faraway look, "it can motivate, give strength - that's what I tell the knights."

The servant nodded, was hesitant, then looked directly at the king. "Do you know how we got back to Camelot?"

"No. Normally when I come round I rely on you to tell me what happened." He said reasonably.

The dark-haired man lowered his gaze and picked at his cuticles.

"Gaius said he treated us for exposure and dehydration…" he wracked his brain trying for a plausible explanation - he couldn't think of one - he genuinely didn't know. Magic - his magic - was the obvious answer but he could hardly say that. "Perhaps someone helped us but did not want a fuss...so, left…"

The king was sceptical, "Who doesn't want recognition for a good deed, Merlin?"

The warlock shrugged and bit his fingers. A small cough caught his attention.

"I thought you might get bored, so I've brought you something."

Merlin's eyes brightened and his mouth fell open in expectation. "You brought me a present?" Arthur handed over a bundle and the servant feverishly unwrapped it.

His face fell, "Your dirty riding boots? I don't know what to say - really you shouldn't have," he began brushing the clumps of mud away that had been showered on the covers.

"You are my servant and you wanted something to do."

"Yes, but..." in utter frustration, he used his finger and thumb to fire a pellet of earth and watched it shoot through the air. Something heavy landed on the bed. It was a polished mahogany cube - Arthur's puzzle box. Merlin picked it up, staring in wonder, his hands sliding over the intricate carvings on the beautiful, pristine piece of wood.

"I got bored with the thing, so it's yours if you want it."

The servant paused for a moment before a huge lopsided grin broke out, lighting up Merlin's face. Arthur revelled in the sight of it - a deluge after a drought.

"Thank you." The joy was yet to fade from his features.

"Should keep you out of trouble for a while."

The warlock nodded, then his fingers deftly opened up the surface of the box.

Arthur walked towards the door, turning, "Good night, Merlin, I need those boots by tomorrow."

"Yes, Sire."

The servant was too engrossed to see the royal's smile. As the king closed the door he thought he did not much care for puzzles, but he was determined to solve the mystery that was Merlin.

The End

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope you enjoyed that. Please tell me your thoughts.
> 
> Originally I was going to have Arthur stay awake when Merlin's magic intervenes and subconsciously teleports them to safety. Having discussed it with my mentor, I decided to go for a more ambiguous ending - having only just done a reveal fic.
> 
> In the first episode we saw a witch teleport, then Nimueh, Morgause, and Morgana all seemed to be able to do it. Merlin was supposed more powerful than any of them and yet this useful skill seemed to elude him. I thought the warlock just needed to find the right motivation!

**Author's Note:**

> TBC...
> 
> So what did you think?


End file.
